


L'espoir de la mémoire

by Candy2theCore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Bombings, Doctor!France, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mafia!France, Mafia!Prussia, Memory Loss, Planets are Characters, Plot, Rich!France, Secret Organization, Self Harm, Slowish build, Tags to be added, less perverted France, mafia, mentions of abuse, time swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:56:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy2theCore/pseuds/Candy2theCore
Summary: “You don’t have to buy me all this.” .“Why would I make you buy them?”“You didn’t have to buy designer brands.”“Designer, is the only thing that looks good on you.”“Promise me you won’t give up in this life.”“I… I promise.”“Do you just really like cheesy french shirts?”“I adore cheesy french shirts.”“Don’t do that,”“Don’t do what?”“Look at me like that.”“Like what?”“Like… like I'm important or something,”“Penny for your thoughts?”“You.”“A diverting subject no doubt,” i can hear the smile in his voice.“Quite.” I agree. “I was just… entertaining the idea of… us.”“Us?”“In a relationship…”





	1. The Hospital

* * *

 

~Francis~  
I stare at the sheet of paper in my hand, the small photo paper clipped to it, glossy from the printer. A young girl, with long hair and dead eyes stares back at me. Her name is printed in bold letters at the top of the page, along with her date of birth. This is followed with a list of information, allergies, blood type, mental disorders. It goes on for a half a page. I rub the side of my face, exhausted as I skim over the information. Most reports are descriptive, like this one, but I’ve been awake since three this morning, and I'm ready to call it a day. Hardening my resolve to push through till the end of my shift, I put the paper back in the file, and knock on the door to her room. I’m not expecting a response, and I don’t receive one, so I step into the room. The girl, (y/n), sits on the bed, staring out the window, eyes lazily fixed on something, and shoulders slumped, hands laced loosely in front of her, mouth tucked down into a frown.  
"Hello." I say smiling. Her eyes find mine for a second, before flicking back to the window. She scowls, and makes a small noise. Her posture shifts, and she curls into herself a little more, shifting the IV in her arm. Her hair falls into her face, hiding her expression as I close the door behind me.  
"So this is the unlucky genius who got stuck with the nutcase?" She murmurs to herself.  
"My name is Francis." I tell her, still smiling as I sit down on the bed next to her. She crosses her arms.  
"(y/n)." She rolls her eyes.  
“I’m just going to do a quick check up. Is that okay?” I pat her leg. She jumps away.  
“I guess.” Moving carefully around the room, I wash my hands, drying them quickly and gathering materials one by one. I go through the routines of heart rate, blood pressure, and throat test. Everything checks out, aside from a mild irregularity of breathing.  
"So why did you come to the hospital?" I ask while holding a stethoscope to her back. It's a really stupid question to ask, since I already know that she was submitted against her will, but I ask it anyway. Protocol.  
"That's my business." She mutters.  
"Look, (y/n)-"  
"I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on." She says in a mock child's voice, finishing my sentence. I pull away the stethoscope, standing to put it away.  
"I wasn't going to say that." I say, biting the inside of my cheek and looking over my shoulder at her. She glances at me, and then away, settling back into cold brooding. I was going to say that. It’s mostly true, and it does work in some cases. Maybe I should try a different approach.  
"I was going to say, that I'm not going to push you to tell me. I think that just makes things worse. I'm going to wait until you feel comfortable telling me. So, if there is anything you ever need, just ask." I place my hand on her shoulder, and pull her arm up gently, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her bicep. She recoils, and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as the plastic material expands for a moment. We’re silent, and she flinches when I remove it. Whenever I touch her, she cringes.  
"(y/n)," I say, eyebrows creasing. "Were you abused?" she bites her lip and looks up at me, cold determination in her eyes. I know the answer, but I can probably guess hers.  
"No." She lies. Giving her a sympathetic smile, I nod. “Everything checks out. I’ll be back to check on you later. If you want to talk, the call button is right there." I gesture to the side of her bed. She nods, and burrows down under her covers. “Try to get some rest,” I say, opening the door.  
"Wait." Her voice is quiet. I pause, looking back at her. Her eyes are focused on the floor. She bites her lip, and thinks for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed.  
"Yes?"  
"Could you... close the curtains? The sun is in my eyes." She asks quietly. Smiling, I nod, and close them, then close the door behind me. I sigh, and close my eyes for a moment, bracing myself for the next patient on my rounds.

* * *

 

~oO (y/n)Oo~  
I watch as two birds chase each other around the big sky outside my hospital room window. The door opens, and I glance over. A tall man enters, crisp white lab coat pulled over a dark blue suit. He’s got blonde hair down to his chin, and stubble dots it. His almost violet eyes flash when he smiles at me. I look back to the window.  
"Hello." He says. I scowl.  
"So this is the unlucky genius who got stuck with the nutcase?" I say, rolling my eyes.  
"My name is Francis." He tells me, sitting down on the bed next to my legs. I cross my arms, glaring.  
"(y/n)." I mutter, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.  
“I’m just going to do a quick check up. Is that okay?” He pats my leg. I jump, feeling the memory of my father’s hand on my leg.  
“I guess.” I say moodily. He goes about the norms of a check up, and remains silent for most of it. I’m left to my thoughts, and shying away when he touches me. He tells me to tilt my head back, open my mouth, and how to breathe a certain way. None of it feels very clinical, which is a little strange, considering how sterile the room feels. His hands are warm and gentle, distracting me from the check up until he startles me with a question.  
"So why did you come to the hospital?" He asks holding a stethoscope to my back.  
"That's my business." Does he really need to ask this? He has my information in that stupid blue folder on the desk. He knows why I’m here. I don’t need to explain myself to some idiot doctor.  
"Look, (y/n)-"  
"I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on!" I mimic. Just cut the crap already. I’m really sick of this.  
"I wasn't going to say that." He says confidently, moving the stethoscope. I flinch, glancing at him, before looking out the window again.  
"I was going to say, that I'm not going to push you to tell me. I think that just makes things worse. I'm going to wait until you feel comfortable telling me. So, if there's anything you ever need, just ask." He smiles, placing his hand on my leg. I flinch hard, take a breath, and fight of the memory of my father pushing me into a wall, and pulling my hair.  
"(y/n)," He pauses cautiously. "Were you abused?" The word sends a shiver down my spine, and I open my eyes.  
"No." It's a lie. He probably knows it is, but all he says is,  
“Everything checks out. I’ll be back to check on you later. If you want to talk, the call button is right there." He gestures to the side of my bed. I nod, and burrow down under my covers. “Try to get some rest,” he stands, and walks to the door, opens it, and says,  
"I'll see you later."  
"Wait." My small voice surprises me. Should I ask him to stay with me while I sleep? Should I tell him why? I'm so tempted to. Maybe... no. I couldn’t.  
"Yes?" He sounds a little hopeful.  
"Could you... close the curtains? The sun's in my eyes." I murmur. I hear him sigh, and he smiles. The curtains close, and he leaves the room.It’s darker with the curtains closed, more cozy, and less like a hospital room. Why does he remind me so much of my father? He’s nothing like my dad. So why do i associate them together? I need to distract myself, before I read into this too much.  
I count to three, in a failed attempt to calm myself. I sit up, pulling up my sleeve, and slipping the small blade from my bag into my hand. I close my eyes, and make three small cuts across my wrists, releasing a breath as I focus on the pain. Blood finds its way down my arm, and I staunch it with the hem of my shirt. The pain feels good to focus on. Something other than life and this cruel existence. The bleeding stops, and I stare at the small lines on my wrists. Then I quickly pull my sleeve down, and put the knife away. Crawling back under the covers, I close my eyes, and run away to the land where no one can find me.


	2. The Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voila. I'll try to get a few more chapters up. Thanks for reading!

~oO (y/n) Oo~  
When the door opens, I turn away, waiting for him to say something.  
"Hello. Did you eat?" My doctor asks, sitting down next to me. I nod even though I didn't. He smiles knowingly.  
"So, I'm going to run a few things on the schedule past you, okay? Tomorrow we have a few tests to run, and a full exam." he says. I nod, closing my eyes. He says a few more things, the words flying past my head as I try to focus on the medical terms he’s using. Why am I so exhausted? I was fine this morning. Maybe I should have eaten today. Now his hand is wrapped around my wrist, and he’s asking me something. I wince when he squeezes lightly. Francis frowns.

"Are you okay?"  
“I'm fine." One of his eyebrows raises, and he gently tugs my wrist closer, flipping my arm over to inspect it.   
No. No, no no! This isn’t supposed to happen! He’s not supposed to know anything! If he manages to get me to tell him, I won't be able to keep anything else from him. If he gets me to open up, I won’t be able to close off and protect myself. I tug my wrist back, letting out a hiss of pain. I bite my tongue to shut myself up, and pull again. His grip only tightens and a cry leaves my mouth. His grip loosens, and I stop tugging, grudgingly allowing him to inspect my work. He slowly slides my sleeve up my arm.  
"(y/n)," He murmurs, tracing his fingers gently over the long scabs. He closes his eyes. "(y/n), what is this?"

"... It's.... nothing." I say, looking away. He gives me a disbelieving look, then stands up. After rummaging through a drawer, he sits down again with a roll of bandage, antiseptic, and a stern expression.   
"Don't tell me it's nothing." He says, the words holding a dangerous tone. He unwraps a small disinfectant wipe, and runs it across my arm. "What's really going on?" His voice is full of quiet anger, and I’m a little frightened of it, despite how cliche the question sounds to me.   
"..." I try tugging my arm away again, to no avail, but I manage to shrink into myself a little. I don’t want to have this conversation with him, or with anyone.   
"I don't want to push you, but I will if I have to." He softens a little at my discomfort, and finishes wrapping my wrist. He puts away the supplies. The thump of the drawer against the frame is the only sound in the room. I close my eyes, and turn, curling into a fetal position, my wrist tucked protectively against my body.  
“Why did you hurt yourself?” he remains standing, walking to the window.   
“...”  
“(y/n), please tell me why.” He sounds strained, like he’s gritting his teeth. I can’t completely see his expression from my viewpoint, but I can tell he’s not pleased with me.   
“No specific reason.”

“(y/n),” he says sharply, detecting my lie easily. I remain silent, as does he. He turns around, and approaches, crossing his arms at me. I spare him a glance, and then train my eyes on the floor, gaze lowered. After a long moment, he sighs.  
"Where's the blade?" he asks gently.   
I keep silent, not trusting myself to speak, to even think of telling him. If I tell him, my defenses will crack, and I’ll trust him. I can’t trust anybody. I can’t tell him anything.   
He prods my leg gently with a hand, his blue gaze burning into my cheek.   
“(y/n)?” He sounds more concerned now. “I just want to help you. You don’t have to like me, or even trust me, I just need you to let me ensure your safety. As a doctor who is concerned for your health, I need to know where your knife is.”

I don’t have to trust him? 

I don't… 

I don't have to trust him? 

The words float in circles above my consciousness, baffling me and everything I’ve ever known. I can’t trust people, and I’ve always been expected to. But this? He’s telling me I don’t have to trust him. He sounds like he doesn’t even expect me to. Is it possible for me to talk to him even if I don't want to trust him? To connect with him emotionally? Logic takes over for a brief moment,

He’s your doctor. It’s okay to tell him these things. He just wants to help.

My irrational thoughts push that aside. 

If you let him in, you’ll never get out. You’ll be stuck with being seen as weak and dependent on others. He’ll expect more of you.  
But you don’t have to trust him. You can talk. And he can listen. And maybe even help. But you don’t have to trust him. He doesn’t have to trust you, or expect anything of you.  
But what if he does?

Then that’s his problem.

“(y/n)?” it’s like he can sense my resolve crumbling.   
"My bag." I murmur. "Left pocket." The words feel like I’m betraying myself. He pulls it out, and tucks it into his pocket.   
"Any others?"   
I shake my head, avoiding his gaze.  
"Please tell me what's going on." He says gently. I don't move. He sighs again.  
"(y/n), I can wait here all night. I've done that before. I can wait." He sits back in the armchair, and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through messages, and starts texting. I remain quiet a little longer, and then find the words spilling out, my voice raw. I sound terrified, and I hate myself for it. 

"I... I was... abused." I admit quietly. He raises an eyebrow, still looking at his phone. "I got... pushed around... my dad came home drunk... a lot... cutting myself... it...i-it took away... the pain." I say, tears falling down my cheeks. NO, no no, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Stop crying damnit. I claw into the sheets, pressing the side of my face into my pillow. A warm hand gently moves over my shoulders, rubbing my back, and Francis telling me that i’m okay, and and that i’m brave. I close my eyes, and rush into unconsciousness. 

Francis  
I rub her back slowly, until she falls asleep, carefully standing so I don’t jostle her. I pull the blanket up, tucking it around her, and smooth her hair down. It’s stepping out of line as her doctor, but I’m not sure anyone’s ever tucked her in before. She mumbles something, and turns over in her sleep, a peaceful expression on her face. I smile a little bit, glad that she’s okay, but the smile drops as i think about how brokenly she looked at me. The pain in her eyes… that kind of pain should not exist. I look over my shoulder a final time, then slip out into the hallway. Immediately I stumble into Matthew, who yelps, and drops a stack of papers.  
"Sorry," I say, "Let me help you," I gather the papers that he dropped, and glance at them. Abuse files?  
"Thanks." he says. It's quiet for a moment.   
"What are these for?"  
"This one..." he fishes out a packet from the stack. "Is for you... it's about..." he peeks at the door. Ah. I flip it open, and glance at the notes.   
Mother died in childbirth. Father abusive. Condition: delicate. Handle with extreme care. There's more pages of the file, but I decide I'll read it in greater detail at home, but I close the file, thinking for a moment, and deciding I’ll read it later at home.  
It talks about her like a package of stemware. Is she really this fragile?   
"Do you know anything more about her?" I look to Matthew, who shifts from foot to foot.  
"No." he murmurs, "I'm supposed to help you do tests tomorrow, but other than that I know no more than what's in that file."  
"I wish she would tell me more..." I trail off, and walk down the stairs with Matthew.

 

~France~   
~About a month later~  
The building is tense when I walk in that afternoon. Matthew joins me in the break room, setting a few papers on the table as he pours himself some coffee.  
"There's a world meeting today."  
"Again?" We just had one last week over a rich, elderly man who told us he wasn’t ready to leave and we’d better damn well fix him. He survived. Living peacefully in California, last we checked.  
"People are getting worked up over (y/n)."  
"For what reason?"  
"All of us. She has issues that pertain to all departments. She's due for another surgery later today."  
"What happened?" My eyes widen. Why wasn’t I informed?I’m the doctor over her, I should be alerted 24/7 to her condition.  
"One of her lungs started filling up with fluid while you were open heart surgery yesterday." he says morosely. “Calling you then would’ve been disruptive.”   
“Cardiogenic pulmonary edema?” I say, ignoring the fact that he pointed out my frustration in less than three sentences.  
“It’s likely. Although it could be HAPE, nervous system, or related to capillary failure. She’s stable, but we’re not sure how to approach the situation.”  
“What happened?”   
“She went critical when we tried to put her in for surgery. She’s got a respirator right now, and she’s been sedated so she doesn’t accidentally hurt herself.”  
“Has she tried to kill herself again?”  
“No, but things keep happening. It’s like the universe wants her dead.”  
“What else has occurred?” I sift through the reports Matthew hands me, wincing at a few.  
“Well the blood work team found a few minor problems, and if left unchecked they could lead to leukemia.”  
“Any tumors?”  
“Not yet, although chances of cancer are high, and the percentages of her surviving are low.”  
“That’s not good.” I close the file folder.  
“Obviously. Our motto is Not One More. if we lose one after our 15 year streak? Our credibility will plummet.”  
"Do we have any solutions?”  
"That's why there's a meeting."  
"Ah...."  
"Attention, the meeting will begin shortly. Time will be frozen in ten minutes, and patient's memories of this announcement will be erased. Please make your way to the meeting room."


	3. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these first few chapters are so short. The following chapters will be longer. Thanks for reading!

~France~  
"Everybody quiet!!" Germany roars. The crowd settles down, and I look over the papers scattered in front of me. "Eight minute speeches, no talking and no arguments. France you have the floor." I clear my throat and stand.   
"(y/n) is becoming more and more of an issue, yes?" murmurs of agreement follow my announcement. "She’s suffering from what we can only guess is premature leukemia, and cardiogenic pulmonary edema. We have the option of starting preemptive treatments for both, but based on the statistics, it’s not likely she’ll survive if we try. I'm not sure what else we can do. This may require help from greater powers."  
"No!" England jumps to his feet, leaning across the table. "Absolutely not! We are not going to bring the Planets into this again!"  
"What else can we do?" I say, my accent becoming thicker. "Zhere is not much else we can do for ‘er!"   
“The last time we involved them, things went sour fairly quickly!” he protests.  
“Do you have another idea? We cannot lose this patient simply because we don’t know what to do! Not One More! Remember?”  
"Yes, of course, but involving the Planets again? It’s mad! No! Our Motto may well be Not One More, but we should be able to take care of it ourselves. We cannot allow this-"  
"England, be quiet." Germany orders. "Und sit down." England huffed and sits down.   
"U.S.A." 

The American straightens, a bite of hamburger still in his mouth as he makes a muffled noise.  
"Can you make a connection with them?" Germany raises his eyebrows to the blond, who huffs.  
"I can try. It might take a while... and I have a bunch of hamburgers to eat...."  
"U.S.A.!" I’m losing my temper very quickly, and I can feel the long hours spent awake last night starting to catch up with me.  
"Dude! It’s a hamburger!" he whines.  
“And I don't care!"  
"U.S.A, you will make the connection now." Germany orders again, cutting into our conversation. Alfred slumps back, and I sit down.  
"Yeesh..."  
A few countries look at me apprehensively, and I put my head in my hands.   
“I’m sorry… there’s not another way…”

 

Unknown POV  
Mercury watches the meeting commence. Jupiter’s being annoyingly calm as usual, his one red eye drifting over the arguing planets of Earth and Venus. The two sisters are currently disagreeing over who has prettier hair. In Mercury's opinion, the prettiest of the two is Earth. Hers are an electric blue color, and Venus wears a deep chocolate brown.   
"Natural colors are so last eon!" Earth tells her sister. "This eon is time to pop out! I don't think that-" she stops, and stares blankly for a few seconds.   
"Earth?" Venus asks, her argument dying on her pale pink lips. "What's going on?"

"My son is calling me..." she mumbles, and closes her eyes. "No, I can't help you Alfie. I already- I don't have the time- no! I'm not arguing with your aunt about my hair!" She protests. Venus smirks. Earth listens for a few more seconds, then sighs. "Fine. I'll talk to him." She closes the connection, and turns to face Jupiter. Venus watches her, an eyebrow raised.   
"Who was that?"  
"Alfred. Apparently my offspring need our help." Earth sighs, and glances back towards the brothers of Jupiter, Neptune, and Uranus. Jupiter trains his eye on her.   
"No."  
"Jupe, please. We haven't made contact in-"  
"No. We'll use the divine intervention method, but no contact."  
"Jupiter-"

"I said NO!" he roars. Earth shrinks back, biting her purple lip. "We'll use the SoulMate method. Who do we pair her with? She’s affiliated with lots of the countries."   
“Canada would be a good choice.” Pluto advises, picking at black fingernails.  
“How?” Earth shoots a glare towards the raven. “He’s the shyest of all my children, and not up for the challenge yet. Plus, Prussia’s interested in him.”  
“Your children date one another?” Venus raises a brow.  
“Don’t argue with me, sweetheart of Jupiter.” Earth growls. Venus shrinks back, nodding.   
“I think it would be a good idea to pair her with England.” Mercury says, shrugging.   
“No, he can’t cook, and if we’re erasing her memories then she has to be with someone who can cook.” Earth groans, putting her head on the table.   
“Well what about U.S.A.?” Neptune yawns.  
“Well… he’s…” Earth fumbles for words.  
“Do you have any kids that would actually take care of (y/n)?”Jupiter says, exasperated.   
“France is pretty capable. He has trouble adjusting to long term relationships, but once he gets the hang of it, he’s committed.” Earth says thoughtfully.  
"Good choice." Venus approves.   
"Venus..." Earth reddens a bit, shooting a disapproving glare to her sister, who shrugs.  
"What? He's hot!"  
“Well maybe we should find someone else if you run the risk of breaking them up!” Earth throws her hands up in exasperation.   
“Well maybe if he wasn’t so attractive-”  
“Girls!” Jupiter slams his hand on the table. Thunder rumbles overhead, causing the Planets to flinch. Earth rubs her arm, where a spark had burned her.”We’re pairing her with France. It’s final.”  
"When will it take effect?" Earth asks timidly.  
"One year."

France  
I watch as Alfred makes the connection. When he pulls out of it, he shrugs.   
"She'll help. I don't know how. Last time... they used the SoulMate method. I know that didn't turn out well for some of you."  
Prussia grimaces. I feel something lodged in my throat, and I try to swallow the lump. She'd left me... for Arthur. I shiver. Said Englishman avoids my eyes when I look at him, and we both shift in our seats, uncomfortable.  
“If it’s the only way,” Arthur says, looking down at his hands.  
"Alright. Mom says the solution is in a year." Alfred sits down to finish his burger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you got questions about the Planets.


End file.
